John nestled the baby back into his arm and took up the plump dimpled hand. ‘I think he’s too small to work yet,’ he said tactfully. ‘Whereas you’re a great big girl. By the time he’s ready for work you’ll have been prophesying and gardening for years.’

It was exactly the right answer. Frances beamed at him and went to the door. ‘I have to go now,’ she said seriously. ‘I’ve got some seedlings that want watering.’

John nodded. ‘You see? You’re a gardener already and all Baby John can do is sit inside with his grandfather.’

Frances nodded and slipped through the door. John looked out of the window and saw her heaving the heavy watering bottle down towards the seed beds set against the warm south wall. Her little thumb was too small to fit the hole at the top of the bottle and she was sprinkling a shiny trail of water behind her like a determined snail.

January 1635

The letter that arrived for the Tradescants at Lambeth bore the royal stamp on the bottom. It was a demand for a tax, a new tax, another new tax. John opened it in the rarities room, standing beside the Venetian windows to catch the light, J beside him.

‘It’s a tax to support the Navy,’ he said. ‘Ship money.’

‘We don’t pay that,’ J said at once. ‘That’s only for the ports and the seaside towns who need the protection of the Navy against pirates and smugglers.’

‘Looks like we do pay it,’ John said grimly. ‘I imagine that everyone is going to have to pay it.’

J swore and took a brief step down the room and back again. ‘How much?’

‘Enough,’ John said. ‘Do we have savings?’

‘We have my last quarter’s wages untouched, but that was to buy cuttings and seeds this spring.’

‘We’ll have to dip into that,’ John told him.

‘Can we refuse to pay?’

John shook his head.

‘We should refuse,’ J declared passionately. ‘The king has no right to levy taxes. Parliament levies the taxes and passes the money raised on to the king. He has no right to demand on his own account. It is Parliament that should consent to the tax, and any complaint the people have is heard in Parliament. The king cannot just charge what he pleases. Where is it to end?’

John shook his head again. ‘The king has closed down Parliament, and I doubt he’ll invite them back. The world has changed, J, and the king is uppermost. If he sets a tax then we have to pay. We have no choice.’

J glared at his father. ‘You always say we have no choice!’ he exclaimed.